Adventures in Worrying
by castielsgrace
Summary: Sam insisted that Dean was fine, that he would be back soon. He insisted that Cas should go to bed, and that Dean would be there when he woke up. But how could he? Dean was hours late from an 'easy' hunt only a town over. Part of the Adventures in Falling verse.


**Title:** Adventures in Worrying  
**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel  
**Warnings:** None  
**Word Count: **1,038  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural, of course. I also do not own Castiel, sadly.  
**Summary:** Sam insisted that Dean was fine, that he would be back soon. He insisted that Cas should go to bed, and that Dean would be there when he woke up. But how could he? Dean was hours late from an 'easy' hunt only a town over. Part of the Adventures in Falling verse.  
**Note:**Thank you for the support in this verse! Feel free to drop me a comment with any ideas you have for "firsts" for Castiel as he tries to adjust to being human, or even just anything you're curious to see in this verse as prompts/suggestions are always accepted, appreciated and encouraged. :)

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"Cas, you need sleep." Sam said again from his place at the end of the long table, his eyes watching Cas as he paced impatiently. "He's going to be fine. He'll be here when you wake up."

"You have no way of knowing that."

"I've been doing this with him for years, Cas. I just sorta know."

Cas paused, turning to glare at Sam. "Well I don't, and even if I attempted to sleep it wouldn't come. He's four hours late, Sam. You both said this was a simple hunt, that's why you didn't bother going with him. He's only one town over; he should be back by now."

"Well I'm going to bed, okay? Wake me up if there's a problem." He paused at the doorway, "He might've checked into a hotel too, you know."

Cas had thought of that hours ago, but he didn't say anything. If Dean would have checked into a hotel he would have called, would've let Cas know that he was okay and would be back in the morning. The lack of missed calls on his cellphone told Castiel that it wasn't the case. Dean, for all he knew, was dying in a forest somewhere and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it, aside from worrying.

The minutes ticked by into hours and Cas' heartbeat continued to gradually raise, he checked his phone more frantically, and even tried to call Dean a few times to no avail. The panic was rapidly rising, and he found himself teetering between the verge of tears and white hot rage at himself for not going with Dean. He knew he shouldn't have let the hunter go alone. No matter how 'easy' the hunt, it would _always_ be dangerous. There would _always_ be risks, surprises, things that hadn't been factored into the equation. Castiel may not be much help in the actual hunting—yet—but he _could_ help with any injuries. In the very least he could operate a vehicle and a cellphone, both of which could easily save a life.

He wanted to wake Sam. He wanted to wake him and insist they drive the hour it would take to go make sure Dean was okay, but he knew it would be no use. Even if he got Sam to agree, they could easily miss one another. Not to mention trying to find Dean in the dark, dead or alive, would be a near impossible challenge.

Cas tried to entertain himself with one of the various books in the library, one of the ones Dean had pulled out of a hidden corner in the Impala insisting that it had been one of his favorites as a kid—something called _1984_. Cas brought it into the war room, sitting gingerly in one of the chairs still in clear view of the doorway. He opened to the first page of the book.

"_It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith…"_ Cas trailed off, his eyes blurring as he tried to focus on the words that wouldn't sink into his mind. The book smelled slightly of Dean, but mostly of the Impala and the famous 'old book' smell so particular and yet impossible to place. It was worn, the spine broken in almost every spot and showing just how well read the book was. Castiel vaguely remembered George Orwell. Balthazar had shown a mild interest in him, though he could no longer recall why.

Cas glanced at the clock on the wall, Dean was now six hours late. Panic began to stir in his chest again, and Castiel had all but decided to go and force Sam to go with him when he heard the sound of someone at the outer door. He froze, eyes glued to the cold metal as he waited, breath frozen in his chest and heart pounding. The door opened and a figure stepped in, as he shuffled forward and into the light, Castiel could see it was Dean. He stumbled to his feet, _1984_ falling unceremoniously to the ground as he struggled around the table, reaching the bottom of the stairs just as Dean did and throwing his arms around him as the hunter let out a noise of surprise. "Cas?"

He buried his face into Dean's neck, ignoring what he was sure was the sticky feel of blood. "You're okay."

"Of course I'm okay, I'm always okay." Cas just tightened his grip, but the action pulled a hiss from Dean's mouth, "Ribs, Cas."

"What happened?"

"There were a lot more of them than I thought there'd be."

Cas pulled away, trying to assess the damage. There was a large cut across Dean's forehead, he had a split lip and the starts of a black eye were forming, and of course he had sprained his ribs, but Cas wondered what else he couldn't see. He started pulling Dean towards the kitchen where they kept all the first aid equipment, "How many?"

"Six." Dean sat down on the offered chair, pulling his shirt off without instruction and revealing his black and blue chest. Cas' heart clenched painfully, but he said nothing, instead pulling out a towel and wetting it, working quickly at removing as much blood and dirt as he could. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" He felt Dean tense under him as he moved the warm cloth over his face, being extra careful of the wounds.

"Because you were up worrying."

"It's fine."

"I should've called you when I got back to the Impala."

Cas pulled the needle and thread out of the first aid kit, hastily threading it before moving to his forehead. "It's fine, Dean. I would've stayed up regardless."

"You're too good to me."

"No, I'm just better at fixing your wounds so you don't have atrocious scars all over the place." Cas wrapped his ribs tightly and then, declaring his work complete, started to clean up. Just as he was placing the first aid kit back on top of the cupboards, he felt Dean's arms snake around his waist.

"I love you, Cas."

Cas couldn't stop his smile, "I love you too. And I'm glad that you're okay."


End file.
